


Guilt

by NGApls



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama & Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-11 15:44:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17449769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NGApls/pseuds/NGApls
Summary: Neville-centric. Story starts when Voldemort and his Death Eaters came to the courtyard to excitedly parade the ""corpse"" of Harry Potter. Not entirely canon compliant.





	1. Chapter 1

“HARRY POTTER… IS DEAD!” was the first thing Neville Longbottom had heard once Voldemort and his Death Eaters had appeared at the courtyard. He witnessed the limp corpse of Harry Potter being carried by a desolate Hagrid who looked like he had lost his own son.

Absolutely everything had turned to white noise, as his entire being had filled with despair. If Harry Potter had died… what had they fought for? The one shining light of hope had been snuffed out; their only way to beat Voldemort, had died. The realization was almost too much for the stand-in Leader of the Dumbledore’s Army to take in. There was a sudden tightening of his chest which he could not begin to describe. Was the blood loss from his head injury finally getting to him?

 He felt empty to the pit of his stomach as he looked down at his feet.

In spite of his mental anguish, his eye had caught something familiar. The silhouette of a hat, to be specific.

_Is that… the sorting hat?_ thought Neville, as he picked up the ragged old relic. He couldn’t believe that the hat had survived through such chaos. He dusted the hat which took him on a trip down memory lane.

* * *

 

**_“GRIFFYNDOR!” cried the sorting hat, as the Gryffindor table erupted into cheer and had warmly welcomed Neville Longbottom. Despite the warm welcome, he had never felt this queasy in his 10 years of living. Gryffindor was the House of the Brave. It made no sense to Neville as to why he had been placed in this house. After all, he was Neville Longbottom: The grandson who could, and never will, live up to his Grandmother’s expectations. The chubby kid who everyone made fun of. The good for nothing-_ **

**_“GRIFFYNDOR!” shouted the hat once again, breaking through  Neville’s thoughts. He watched as The Boy Who Lived excitedly took his seat at the Gryffindor table._ Well, of course… _thought Neville._** THE **_Harry Potter was much more suited to be at Gryffindor._**

* * *

 

He was jolted out of his thoughts when he saw Voldemort awkwardly hug Draco Malfoy, as he welcomed him to join his side. _Not something you see everyday,_ Neville thought wryly as he was brought back to reality. The reality of them having lost the war.

_This is it. All is lost. There’s no meaning in fighting anymore. Might as well be the first to die, as the now-leader of Dumbledore’s Army_

Despite the forlornness and the still remaining tightening of his chest, Neville felt oddly… liberated. For once in his life, he felt like he could do anything he wanted. If he were to die within the next few minutes if not seconds, he might as well choose how he dies now, couldn’t he?

Having made up his mind, Neville slowly limped to confront The Dark Lord. He could feel the hair on his neck prickle, as he felt the eyes of the entire school upon him.

“I must say, I had hoped for better” cracked Voldemort, as the Death Eaters mockingly laughed at him.  The wisecrack hadn’t fazed Longbottom, as he kept limping his way towards **him**.

“And who might you be, young man?” Voldemort inquired, making Neville stop his sorrowful excuse of a stride.

“Neville Longbottom” and not a second after his reply, the intensity of mocking laughter had increased. The cackle of one Bellatrix Lestrange pierced through the laughter uniquely, as she recognized the family name. The laughter died down, allowing their Master to speak.

“Well, Neville, I am sure we can find a place for you in our ranks-“

“I’d like to say something”, Neville interjected which clearly hadn’t pleased the person who possessed the Elder Wand as he scrunched his face in impatience.

“Well, Neville, I’m sure we’d all be fascinated to hear what you have to say”, Voldemort replied calmly as Neville took a moment to collect his thoughts before finally speaking

“It doesn’t matter that Harry’s gone”

“Stand down, Neville-“

“People die everyday!” Neville promptly cut off Seamus’s interruption before continuing as he turned to look back at the remnants of the people who stood with Hogwarts “Friends… Family… Yeah, we lost Harry tonight. But is he not with us? In here?” Neville paused as he had brought the hand that was not holding on to the sorting hat, to his chest. “Fred, Remus, Tonks… they did not die in vain… BUT YOU WILL!”

He could finally recognize the odd tightening of his chest... Anger for losing a close friend in Harry, and resentment at himself for not being a good enough comrade to have helped him. Those feelings had surfaced as Neville spat at Voldemort’s direction.

“’CAUSE YOU’RE WRONG! HARRY’S HEART DID BEAT FOR US! FOR ALL OF US!” Neville continued, before pulling The Sword of Godric Gryffindor from the sorting hat surprising everyone present, including himself.

“IT’S NOT OVER!” he roared triumphantly, as he had gotten ready to meet his end at the hands of the wizard before him.

What followed merely a second after, was something that Neville Longbottom would describe as nothing short of a miracle.

Harry’s corpse rolled out of Hagrid’s arms, and had fired a spell at Voldemort’s snake in an attempt to kill the Horcrux.

Confusion. Followed by elation. Neville Longbottom didn’t have to look at his peers to know that they were experiencing the same emotions as he was.

Voldemort stared in horror as Harry Potter attempted to flee from him. He fired a wide variety of spells in an attempt to kill Harry Potter, but had failed as the silhouette of The Boy Who Lived disappeared from his sight for a brief moment before appearing beside his comrades.

The professors ushered in the students while casting a defensive spell around them as Voldemort and the remnants of his Death Eaters who had stayed even after Harry was found to be alive, came down at them barring all of their force upon them.

Spells were deflected on both sides before Neville had realized that Voldemort had yet to actually fire a single spell at them.

The moment Voldemort raised his wand, Neville instinctively thrust himself forward to bare the full brunt of whatever was headed their way. As the spell came barreling down their direction, Neville was able to clearly recognize the spell.

_Bombarda Maxima…_ Neville realized in horror. A deadly spell fired from the strongest wand in existence, by one of the strongest wizards to have ever existed.

_So, this is it, huh?_ Was his final thought before the spell had clashed head on with the sword resulting in him being flung across The Great Hall.

He had heard a faint “NEVILLE!” being screamed by Harry before consciousness failed him


	2. Chapter 2

Neville woke up feeling groggy beyond repair. He barely registered anything that was going on around him. Trying to make sense of the chaos, he looked at the ensuing destruction surrounding him to no avail. Feeling a slight weight on his palm, he looked at what he was holding.

The Ruby of the Sword of Godric Gryffindor’s hilt greeted his vision, bringing along memories of what had transpired before he blacked out.

A sharp pain greeted his chest when he realized that he was somehow still alive, as he wheezed in pain of having his ribs creak in agony.

 **_I’M ALIVE?!_ ** _How?!_

The Sword seemingly resonated with the mayhem, answering his question. Was the Sword indestructible? _Well, atleast strong enough to completely withstand Bombarda Maxima... How did I even recognize the spell for what it was?_

Luna… Neville remembered her teaching him about a lot of spells during his fifth year. The year when Dumbledore’s Army was formed.

 _“Luna_ ” just the very thought of her had filled him with warmth, before feeling the blood drain out of his face.

He still hadn’t seen her since she was whisked away months ago. He had no idea where she was. And he did not know if she was still alive.

Invigorated with this newfound sense of urgency, he got up trying to find the person he’d been pining over since the very formation of Dumbledore’s Army.

Before he could even make up his mind on where to go in search for her, Neville’s eye had caught something slither off in a river-like pattern. He watched in horror as Voldemort’s snake chased down Ron and Hermione stumbling back in an effort to escape the snake’s fangs.

Neville’s mind raced as he rushed to them. He witnessed Ron cast The Killing Curse in a desperate attempt to save themselves, though it amounted to nothing as the curse merely vanished on impact.

  ** _NONONONO_** , _I REFUSE TO LOSE ANYONE HEREAFTER!_

“AAAAAAAAHHH!”  roared Neville as he swung the sword upwards just as the snake pounced, in a desperate attempt to cut short the snake’s charge.

He felt blood splatter on his cardigan as the sword sliced through the snake’s neck like butter, halting its attack by putting an end to its misery. The snake almost seemed to blow up in a cloud of toxic fumes, before dissipating into nothingness.

He could faintly hear a scream of agony from outside the castle, and had selfishly hoped for it to not be someone he knew of.

Neville dropped the sword as he felt the sudden rush in adrenaline wear off, and had brought his hands to his knees. He watched Ron slowly crack an eye open to see why the pain was yet to come. Ron then continued to slowly unwrap his hands from around Hermione, as his face morphed from one of terror to one of exhilaration.

Ron excitedly exclaimed “NEVILLE, YOU BEAUTIFUL SON OF A-” before being cut short by a “YOU KILLED NAGINI!” from Hermione.

“IF YOU HAVE THE TIME TO GAWK, THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE THE STRENGTH TO FIGHT!” hissed Neville beside himself. He blamed his sudden outburst on the fact that he was still unaware of Luna’s whereabouts. Definitely not because he had wished to hug Luna, not unlike Ron had done to Hermione before keeling over in exhaustion and dying himself. Nope, not at all. “Get up… The war’s still going on,” Neville continued as he straightened himself.

Ron merely chuckled as he replied, “Neville, you literally ran the sword through Voldemort’s own rotten heart! He’s most likely-” and not a moment after, the fighting in the castle halted as a flash of red light that resembled the colour of Gryffindor nearly blinded everyone.

Neville looked down at the Sword’s hilt and picked it up, the Ruby gleaming in the sunlight. Almost instinctively, the residents of the castle knew what had transpired.

As if to confirm their thoughts and hopes, Harry came waltzing into the castle with the torn and tattered remains of whatever Voldemort was wearing. Neville heard the Death Eaters scream in despair, as they apparated themselves away from the castle in defeat.

_It’s over…_

The war had come to a close. The Boy Who Lived had triumphed over The Dark Lord.

Feeling overcome with exhaustion, Neville fell flat on his arse as he audibly breathed a sigh of relief. _You did it, Harry!_

Neville watched as people slowly approached Harry and had hugged him, until nearly everyone had formed a closely knit halo of people around Harry numerous times. Hugging to comfort themselves, to comfort the people around them, and to comfort the man who had faced trials and tribulations no one could even have hoped to imagine.

“Well, come along then!” Ron delightedly invited Neville while helping up Hermione.  Neville just wordlessly shook his head, refusing Ron’s invitation as he slowly tried to steady his breathing.

 _Yeah, no, I’m not joining that considering the sorry state that I’m in. Wouldn’t want to smear the filthy blood of that snake over other people._ Neville thought wryly, as he slowly removed his cardigan that was soaked with the snake’s blood. He had very much liked the cardigan, it was sent to him by his Gran months ago. He hadn’t been able to stay in touch with his Gran, what with being the stand-in leader of Dumbledore’s Army nearly consuming all of his spare time when he wasn’t taunting the Carrows.

Ron replied in understanding, “Suit yourself, man” as he dragged Hermione with him to the ever increasing crowd of people forming in the middle of the Great Hall.

“’Bout time you two got together” Neville mumbled to himself as he got up from the ground, Sword in hand. Their feelings for each other were becoming increasingly apparent, and it was painful to see those two quarrel that often like an old-married couple.

Well, what now?

He wanted some peace and quiet. Moreover, he wanted to see if Luna was alright, but quickly let go of the notion.

 _She’s a strong lass, that one. She’ll be alright.  She’s probably somewhere in the vortex of people surrounding Harry,_ Neville consoled himself.

Without a moment’s warning, he felt the wind being knocked from him as a student several years junior to him had all but thrown himself at Neville. Before he could make sense of what was going on, he was swarmed by a clump of juniors, most of them desperately trying to cling on to him all while cheering “LEADER!”

Neville instinctively brought the Sword over his shoulder, so that they wouldn’t harm themselves. He recognized each and every one of them as kids who had sought comfort in The Room of Requirement under Dumbledore’s Army, and had smiled warmly at them.

“Guys”, Neville weakly attempted to calm them down, only for it to end in futility. The noise rejuvenated him despite the exhaustion of being awake since Merlin knows how long.

“Give the ‘Leader’ his space, students”, Professor McGonagall said, curtly silencing the student mob. The Professor continued, “Filch, make sure that the students are accounted for”, which earned her an “Aye” of acknowledgement from Filch as he ushered the students to a quieter place, away from the dead bodies that had scattered around the school. 

“Neville Longbottom, you brave, brave soul” exclaimed the Professor as she brought Neville into a tight embrace. “You have been showcasing remarkably outstanding development ever since the start of your fifth year” the Professor said, releasing him from her embrace. “I am so very proud to have you as a student”

“Thank you, Professor” came the hollow reply from Neville as he took a gander at her face. The past year had made the Professor look much older than she actually was, but in mere moments since the announcement of Voldemort’s death had she looked much younger. As young as the day he had his first transfiguration class way back in his first year at Hogwarts.

 _‘Brave soul’_ Neville mentally scoffed in denial. What he did was nothing short of a final suicidal leap in hopelessness. Yet he did not find it in himself to deny the Professor’s praise. Was it because of fatigue or because he did not want to break the Professor’s delight; he did not know.

“I shall be leaving you to your devices, Mr. Longbottom. I have a lot to attend to at the moment” the Professor said as she made herself scarce leaving him standing alone.

Neville found it difficult to stand, and had slowly limped his way to a set of stairs. Sitting on them, he found himself feeling… _hollow_.

* * *

 

He had lost track of time, he did not know how long it took for the mass of people to remove themselves from the crowd and disperse. It all seemed so surreal to him. A part of him found it difficult to believe that the war was over, and that Voldemort had died. He blamed all of this on his fatigue.

He saw as Harry moved along the crowd, acknowledging him in the process, to which he merely nodded in response with a half grin.

Seeing The Boy who Lived had calmed his nerves by a significant amount, but he still found himself unable to rid himself of this impending sense of horror.

He was brought out of his thoughts when he noticed someone had sat next to him out of the corner of his eye.

Luna Lovegood had chosen to sit beside him and had greeted him with a smile as bright as the afternoon sun, to which he could only gawk in delighted surprise.

 _She is alright, she is alright, she is alright,_ Neville mentally chanted like a mantra. Any prior exhaustion or mental anguish had left him, and he was now solely focused on Luna.

“Harry told me that you were searching for me, though he never did tell me as to why” Luna informed him in her usual sing-song voice. On hearing that, Neville choked on his own spit.

He had wanted to confess to her, thinking they would all be dead by dawn. But now that everything was well, he found himself unable to commit to his prior determination. Now was definitely not the time. There were wounds to be tended, lessons to be learned,

 _And dead to be mourned…_ Neville thought grimly.

“T’was nothing, really.” Neville spat out, coughing from the aforementioned choke. “I just wanted to see you considering that I hadn’t for months together.”

“That’s awfully sweet of you, Neville,” replied Luna with a worn out smile. And for a brief moment, Neville thought she had aged far more than she actually was.

 _Of course, she’d have changed…_ She was trapped in Merlin knows where, for who knows how long. That’s bound to have lasting effects on anyone…

“Do you reckon Harry would want some alone time right now?” Luna openly questioned. Before Neville could make heads or tails of her question, he witnessed Luna Lovegood distract the entire school by pointing at a window and shouting, “Oooh, look, a Blibbering Humdinger!"

Neville brought a hand to his mouth to stifle his laughter, as he watched the entire school whip their heads around searching for this ‘Blibbering Humdinger’. Through his mirth, he witnessed Ron and Hermoine get up in unison from their seated positions at the table, and had begun to walk towards the bridge. _Harry must have used the cloak,_ Neville thought trying to come up with a valid reason for Harry’s disappearance.

Upon ceasing his laughter, he looked at the woman beside him with newfound admiration. In a singular moment, she had shattered any worries he had for her.

 _She hadn’t changed,_ Neville thought feeling an indescribable warmth envelop his entire being which spurred him to action.

“I missed you”, Neville had said out loud as he held Luna’s hand in his own. He felt Luna adjust her hand so that they could intertwine their fingers.

He faintly heard a “I missed you too” softly whispered back to him.

Now, Neville Longbottom was never exemplary in Quidditch. Yet he briefly wondered if this was how Harry felt when he caught the snitch, winning the match for Gryffindor way back during their first year. Neville was sure he had the goofiest of grins plastered on his face.

“We should get you to the infirmary” Luna had said, an adorable blush dusting her pale cheeks.

  _HOW?! HOW ARE YOU SO CUTE, HOW ARE YOU SO- Wait,_ “Infirmary? Luna, there are people with far more serious injuries than me who require all the attention they could receive”

Luna simply brought her index finger and poked Neville in the side of the chest, which earned her a pained wheeze in response from Neville.

“I saw you willfully tank a Bombarda Maxima. I thought you had…” Luna trailed off with a somber tone. Neville didn’t correct her. After all, he too had thought that was the end for him.

She helped him to his feet, and had hooked an arm of his over her shoulder to help him walk. Neville did not protest, glad for every waking moment he could spend with her.


	3. Chapter 3

They wordlessly treaded the castle, making their way to the hospital wing. Nods of acknowledgements were exchanged as people recognized the leader of the students’ Resistance Army, Neville Longbottom, being carried by Luna Lovegood.

_She had thought I died._

It wasn’t a surprise to him. He was very much prepared to face death. Taking a spell from The Dark Lord head-on, only for him to live to tell the tale was not something many could boast of. _If any could boast of, that is…_

“You were very courageous out there,” Luna being the first to break the awkward silence between them continued, “I don’t think they noticed, but had you not taken Voldemort’s spell, not many people in the vicinity would have survived.” Luna finished her analysis.

He felt the bile in his stomach rise at the mention of the word ‘ _courageous’_. Those weren’t the actions of the courageous Leader they had propped him up to be. No, those were the desperate actions of one pitiful student who had already lost all hope in his survival. He did not deserve any of this praise.

“Y-yeah, thanks”, Neville shakily replied feeling all his energy go down the drain, exhaustion taking over his thoughts and actions. He finally took a moment to actually look at her condition without being transfixed by her presence, which had seemed quite a task to Neville so far.

Dirty blond hair seeming dirtier due to the war, freely flowed all the way down to her waist. A few blemishes marred her neck. His eyes followed the trail, until he stopped at a scar that looked like a ‘y’ on her right shoulder that disappeared under her shirt.

Before he could enquire about the intriguing scar, he was interrupted by a shrill scream of pain. They had reached the hospital wing, which seemed to be in utter chaos. In their moment of stunned silence, the scream died down to their horror.

Madam Pomfrey unfazed by it all had silently come to greet the two after a few moments passed. “Mr. Longbottom, Ms. Lovegood”, she greeted with a tired smile. She had ushered the two in, her eye falling on Neville’s right palm. “Next time, please refrain from bringing weapons to the hospital wing, Mr. Longbottom”, Madame Pomfrey chastised lightly.

Neville followed Madame Pomfrey’s line of sight to find The Sword of Gryffindor tightly secured in his hand.

 _I’ve been holding onto the Sword this entire time,_ Neville realized with a start. Despite registering the dull ache from holding onto the Sword for so long, he found himself unable to let go of the Sword.

He was afraid that this reality would disappear if he let go of the Sword. He was afraid that he’d wake up in the Room of Requirement, aching from the injuries and the torture the Carrows had inflicted on him.

He was afraid that he would wake up to a moment when he was unaware of Luna’s whereabouts.

The Sword’s cool hilt served as a constant reminder that the war was over, and he did not want to let go of that reassurance.

Luna had slowly brought him to the edge of one of the beds where Neville had finally managed to sit. Neville reluctantly laid the Sword beside him on the bed as he let go of the hilt.

“You don’t seem to be injured, you should go back to your dorm,” Neville remarked, “I don’t think you’ve slept enough for a while. You should get some good sleep, which I doubt you’d get here.” Neville finished awkwardly gesturing at the infirmary with his arm.

Neville noticed that Luna had not responded, but had stared blankly at him instead; a stare so void of life that he wondered if Luna was looking through him, or at something behind him.

“Luna, you alright?”

 Something was off.  Most people would make the claim that Luna Lovegood would space out quite often, but not him or Ginny. They knew that Luna was one of the most observant students in the school, and there was never a silent moment in her mind.

So, when she had not responded as the moments passed, Neville grew increasingly worried. Whenever Luna was lost in thought, he would notice this shine, this twinkle, of absolute wonder for everything that existed around her. A quirk that he was not able to see in the Luna in front of him.

Getting up, he had to shake Luna’s shoulder in an attempt to gain her attention. “LUNA!” Neville shouted snapping Luna out of her dazed state.

“Is something wrong, Neville?” Luna blinkingly questioned as if nothing had transpired in the past few moments.

“You’ve been staring off into space for quite a while, Luna… You must be quite tired,” Neville reasoned for Luna’s ‘odd’ behavior as he brought her into a hug. “You should get some rest in, we’ll see each other later.” Neville said. He felt Luna nod as he released her from his embrace.

Luna seemed to reluctantly leave, uttering a “See you soon,” on her way out.

Neville frowned at their interaction. It was unlike her to space out when a friend was talking to her. She was also a woman of brutal honesty, and almost never hesitated to say what was on her mind. Seeing her hesitate for anything was not something Neville was used to.

“Which year?” Neville questioned out loud once he was sure that Luna was out of earshot. Madame Pomfrey understanding his question was about the scream earlier, had somberly replied, “Fifth year, Rose McPhille.”

Upon hearing the reply, he slowly sat back on the bed. He felt his stomach plummet on hearing the familiar name.

_You knew this would happen, Neville Longbottom. You knew that loss was inevitable during a war. You steeled yourself for this the moment you took up the mantle of ‘Leader’…_

And yet, he could not stop the guilt that clawed at his throat.

Madame Pomfrey immediately recognizing Neville’s anguish, had confronted him with bandages to take his mind off from the loss.

“I need you to remove your footwear, have to get your foot checked,” Madame Pomfrey ordered as she began to slowly nurse his head injury. “Any other injury I should be made aware of?”

“My chest…? Ribs, I think?” Neville hissed out in pain at the antiseptic being applied to his head injury.

The moment Madame Pomfrey has finished bandaging his head, she turned her attention to Neville’s foot. Meanwhile, Neville had removed his shirt to get examined.

“Your foot is in good shape, the sprain should heal within a couple of days,” she hypothesized as she moved her attention to Neville’s chest. Slowly pressurizing each rib, testing which was injured, Madame Pomfrey found herself unable to come to a concrete conclusion regarding the pain that originated in his torso.

“Seems to be a hairline fracture in a rib or two,” she remarked unsure about her own assessment. “Even though your injury does not seem serious, I advise you to stay here for now, Mr. Longbottom. I… have much more troubling affairs to look at.”

Neville watched as Madame Pomfrey had moved to another bed, tending to their injuries. Surprisingly, not much of the beds were filled, which came as a small solace to Neville.

The hospital wing seemed untouched by the war, except for the fact that more beds were filled than usual, Neville noticed. Not more than fifteen beds were filled, and they did not seem to suffer from mortal injuries.

 _Except for little Rosie…_ Neville mentally sighed as his eyes fell on the bed that was covered with a screen.

He had not known her very well, but she was one amongst the many that had joined D.A under him in the past few months. A loyal Hufflepuff that always stood up for her friends till the bitter end.

“Ginny, you really don’t need to come with me, I can do this myself-“

“True, but knowing you, you’d try to escape the very moment you got checked to help out, even though you need the rest more than any of us”

Neville was brought out of his thoughts, as Harry Potter entered the hospital wing with a bloodied shoulder, Ginerva Weasely accompanying him.

“Neville!” sighed Harry in relief at the prospect of being in the company of his roommate, rather than being in a room of people he barely knew.

“You did it, Harry,” Neville beamed as Harry took a seat on the bed next to his own and Ginny sat on the chair between their beds. “ _WE_ did it,” replied Harry with a tired, but brilliant grin.

“You did well, both of you,” Ginny complimented before continuing, “We met Luna on our way here. Said she helped carry you to the hospital wing”

Neville could _feel_ the smugness from Ginny’s voice and saw that Harry had a snicker plastered on his face. A snicker that he wanted to wipe off as soon as possible.

“No, I haven’t- I’ve yet to tell her of how I feel,” Neville deadpanned as he watched Harry go slack jawed and Ginny visibly get offended.

“What a load of Dragon dung! You tell **_THE_** Dark Lord to bugger off, but can’t find it in you to confess to a girl!?” Ginny chastised, while Harry just shook his head. “Bloody hell, Neville, by Merlin’s beard…”

“Well, what do you expect me to say?! ‘Hey, I know that we are barely coming to terms with the fact that we survived and that there are bodies littering the castle in droves, but I wanted you to know that I’ve loved you since the formation of Dumbledore’s Army’?” Neville ranted; irritated at their disagreement with his action.

“Honestly not a bad confession,” Harry remarked dryly, and Neville couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. _Ron’s been rubbing off on you, Harry…_

“Would have certainly been better than yours, Harry” Ginny mumbled, which prompted Harry to sheepishly look away, making it Neville’s turn to snicker at Harry.

“Would you please remove your shirt, Mr. Potter? It is imperative that you do so, if we are to examine your wound,” Madame Pomfrey ordered appearing in front of Harry. Harry wordlessly removed his shirt while avoiding Ginny’s pointed glare.

Neville was made aware of the time Harry had confessed/broken up with Ginny after Dumbledore’s funeral, courtesy of Luna. Harry had confessed that he loved her; simultaneously breaking up with her as he feared Voldemort would come for her. She seemed to still be a bit salty on that. _Speaking about Voldemort…_

“How did you trick Voldemort and his posse into thinking you were dead?” Neville asked wanting to stave off the heat from Harry.

Harry had gone uncharacteristically silent at the question, and Ginny had flinched, making Neville regret ever opening his mouth. He faintly remembered the horrible scene of Hagrid carrying Harry, and that Ginny had nearly screamed her heart out at their declaration of Harry’s “death”.

“I… didn’t,” Harry managed to spit out, at which Neville could only raise an eyebrow. “I’ll explain; if anything the two of you are the ones who deserve to know above all,” sighed Harry as he seemed to look away to a place far from their reach. Something neither Neville nor Ginny could comprehend. Madame Pomfrey had finished bandaging Harry’s shoulder wound and had left them to their devices.

“That reminds me, I heard from Ron that you slew the snake,” Harry groaned as he tried to lie down in a comfortable position at which he could begin his “explanation”.

“What’s the big deal with the pet anyway? Ron had said, and I quote, ‘Ran the sword through Voldemort’s own rotten heart’”

“That’s… not far from the truth, actually. Brilliant, that would make a good starting point for what I’ll be explaining”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [And yet he could not stop the {guilt} that clawed at his throat]  
> I believe that should clarify what this fanfic(?) will mainly be about; Neville undergoing Survivor's Guilt as the Leader of Dumbledore's Army.  
> I have never been a Potterhead, so my interest in the franchise is fairly limited. Despite that, I had always liked Neville Longbottom since the first year. The day he stood up to Harry, Ron and Hermione even if he was outmatched in every way possible was something that had stuck with me all these years.  
> Seeing him get his shit together in his fifth year after learning of Bellatrix Lestrange's escape, was an absolute treat to observe. He is the quintessential side character that had the most character development out of everybody in the series, even if said development happened in the background.  
> There will probably be a lot of discrepancies in the forth coming chapters as I am not an avid Potter fan, so please do bear with me. I'm merely doing this for fun. And to test my vocabulary.


End file.
